Page 87 of Mercy (The Sins Trilogy 3)
Yuna considers as she’s chewing on the final bite of food. “That’s true. A Vera Wang original will take a while. But not that long, right?”
“I don’t know if I want a Vera Wang original,” I say. “It seems like a terrible waste.” I understand the purpose of having a real ceremony, but do we need to spend that kind of money on a dress I’m only going to wear for a few hours?
The intercom buzzes, and Tony gets up, looking relieved. I don’t blame him. It’s gotta be boring to listen to us talk about colors, dresses, flowers and cake.
He answers the call. “Yes? Who?” He looks at Yuna over a shoulder. “Is your mother supposed to visit?”
She scrambles back and almost tips her chair over. Her dark eyes go wide and wild, like a cat that’s suddenly had water dumped on it. “My mom? No! Why? Is she here? Right now?”
Oh no. Is she in trouble?It’s gotta be a big deal for Yuna’s mother to fly all the way to Los Angeles from Korea. Is she going to be a Tiger Mom—scary and strict?
Tony nods, then gestures at the screen on the intercom.
Yuna runs over and stares at the monitor. “Holy shit,” she whispers. “Oh my God!”
Oh crap. Now I’m feeling anxious and nervous. Should I look for a place to hide Yuna?
Tony returns to the concierge. “Yes. Go ahead. Thanks.” He hangs up.
Yuna puts a hand on his forearm. “Wait! You didn’t let her in, did you?”
“Of course I did. It’s your mom.”
“Oh my God! You should’ve said I’d meet her downstairs!” She puts her hands on her cheeks in horror.
I’ve never seen Yuna react like this before. “Do you want to hide?” I slide a look in Tony’s direction. “We could tell her you aren’t here if you want. I guess.”
“No! It’s better I don’t.”
Julie gives me a quizzical look, but I just shake my head. I don’t remember ever meeting Yuna’s mom. Yuna keeps shifting her weight left and right like she needs to pee.
“Yuna, it’s fine,” I say, trying to soothe her from another angle. “We have plenty of food for everyone. She can join us.”
“No, we do not.”
I look at the spread. We still have tons of food left. How big of an appetite does her mom have?
Is her mom the disapproving type? Or super particular? Is she going to be upset we aren’t eating sugar- and gluten-free cardboard pancakes?
Finally, Yuna’s mom arrives. And I see why Yuna’s been freaking out.
She walks in, her posture as regal as a queen’s. Four women and two men in conservative black suits follow her. One middle-aged woman is standing half a step behind her, while the rest maintain at least two steps’ distance from her back.
Yuna’s mom looks a lot like her—the same delicate bones, the small nose and stubborn mouth. Unlike Yuna, her hair’s dyed dark brown and twisted into a chic updo, held together with pearl pins. Huge sapphires adorn her ears, and more blue gems sparkle around her throat. The deep purple dress she has on looks as expensive as her jewelry, and she’s in elegant pale nude pumps made of leather.
If Yuna hadn’t said it was her mom, I would never have guessed. The woman looks no more than thirty-five.
Yuna says something that sounds like “ma” and wraps her arms around her mom in a huge, enthusiastic hug.
Her mom hugs her back gently, then says something in Korean. Unless I’m mistaken, she isn’t too thrilled about the way her child looks. Her eyes keep sweeping over Yuna from head to toe, then back.
I rise from my seat with a smile, nerves making my fingers twitchy. I wish I’d asked Yuna if we ever met before, so I don’t say anything wrong. Maybe it’ll be okay, though. Yuna’s mom doesn’t seem to speak English—I haven’t heard a single English word out of her beautifully lipsticked mouth—and Yuna can translate for me and omit anything I say that’s not appropriate.
Finally, she turns to Tony and says something in Korean.
The woman following half a step behind her says, “Lady Min would like to thank you for your hospitality, not just to herself but to her daughter.”
Lady Min? Shouldn’t it be Hae? I glance at Yuna, but she doesn’t seem to understand my questioning look, because she’s pressing her lips together tightly.
